One Way

Looking for hay in a stack of needles Standing on the edge of the abyss as it falls into me Kicking the dust that forms chiselled mountains Reading the contents while the book is still written Wind and rain laughing at our hubris Clutching at the past as now never seen cowers in fear As the future feast on seconds yet to happen Want always yearning and need so discerning This carbon corpse This empty shell History lost in the time before And self dies silently its sweetness never tasted Its greatness always harnessed and yet we dream Of something unknown behind the final exit door. Choosing the pain because relief leaves us numb and life that all succumb